


Foresight

by Anjelica_Grey



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Modern Girl in Thedas, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelica_Grey/pseuds/Anjelica_Grey
Summary: For the prompt, “You could have warned me!” Alistair & Raven step away from the rest of the party to discuss Cullen’s trauma during the uprising at Kinloch Hold.Scene stands alone, but may also be read in conjunction withChapter 20of “To Dream of Dragons”.





	Foresight

The weak light of waning Satina was barely bright enough to illuminate Raven’s path, and the larger moon, Augusta, was veiled by clouds. The strange sight of two moons in the sky rarely failed to captivate her—and remind her how different Thedas was from Earth—but tonight her only focus lay ahead. Alistair stood alone in the quiet night, his hands gripping the upper rail of a pasture fence. The young Warden’s expression was cloaked in shadow, but his shoulders shook with sobs.

At a loss, she reached out to place a comforting hand on his arm. It was the wrong thing to do; he wheeled on her, his voice clogged with tears. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?!”

She quailed in the face of his uncharacteristic ire. “I’m sorry; I ... I should have brought it up sooner, but with all that mess with the Dalish, I—“

“No, why didn’t you tell me _before I found Cullen in the Circle Tower?_ You didn’t see him; you don’t know what it was _like_ up there!” He was wrong, of course. Back when she saw this world through the lens of a video game, she’d played through the mage tower quest many times. But she had no intention of correcting him. “Cullen was—they _tortured_ him, Raven! One of the few friends I’ve ever had, and demons tortured him for Maker knows how long, and I just wanted to _help_ him ... and he flinched away from me! And now you inform me it’s because the demons pulled my image from his mind and used _my face_ when they did it, to make him think I was—I was ...” He trailed off in broken misery.

“Alistair, I ...”

“ _No,_ Rae,” he cut her off with a sharp gesture. “You could have _warned_ me. If you had explained, I could’ve ... I don’t know, tried to stay out of his sight at first, or—or something! I would’ve hated it, but if it made things easier for him ...” He turned back to the fence and, with an ache that wrenched her heart, murmured, “I could have told him I was sorry. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She wilted, struck with the same helpless remorse that shattered her in the ruins of Lothering when her brother used those exact words to accuse her of letting innocents die. Must she go on doubting every choice, feeling responsible for every misfortune? She recalled the myth about Kassandra of Troy, the woman cursed to see the future but never be believed. Raven had never contemplated the crushing despair of anticipating unavoidable tragedy. Now she understood far too well.

The silence had grown long between them before she found the heart to speak. “I couldn’t warn you, because I didn’t _know_ that,” she explained, her voice soft with sorrow. “I wasn’t sure you’d even _met_ him before, until we talked in the library afterward. I wish I knew as much as you think I do, but that isn’t how it works. It’s hard to explain, but it’s ... like, if you’re reading a book, the author only includes what’s important to the story, right? I mean, you can assume that Andraste had to use the privy like everybody else, but they don’t put that in the Chant.”

“So you’re saying, what ... Cullen wasn’t important enough to mention?” His tone gained an edge.

“No! That’s not what I meant; I—ugh, I’m explaining this badly. Cullen _is_ important; very much so. That’s why I told Rob in advance to make sure he got out okay, no matter what. But—” The scholar groped for words, pushing her glasses up absently. “In that part of the story, the main goal was to explain where the blood mages and their captives were and what had to be done next. Your friendship was never brought up because the other stuff was more urgent. And all that was said about his—his torture ... was that it happened. There were a few hints, but no details, not even how long he’d been there. I only learned about it when he told me himself, weeks later.”

He stared off into the night sky, contemplating her explanation. Finally, his head bowed, and he sighed. “I—I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice still thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, Rae; I should’ve known you did all you could. I wasn’t thinking clearly; I—I just can’t comprehend what he must have gone through, what he suffered—“ A strangled sob shook the Warden, and Raven flung her arms around him, rubbing gentle circles on his back and whispering words of comfort, her own face wet with tears.

After they’d calmed, she said, “If it helps, he _will_ be okay, Alistair. _Better_ than okay. He’s got a long road ahead of him, but he’ll get through this. And someday he’ll be the commander of one of the most important armies in the history of Thedas, and he’ll know he’s made a difference, that he’s protected people who needed it.”

The tall Warden’s tone was uncertain. “He—he will? Are you certain?”

“As certain as I am of anything, yes. Oh, and here’s a bit you’ll love; a huge group of all the most pompous Orlesian nobles will have to show respect while Cullen, a country boy from Honnleath, is introduced to the Empress as a person worthy of high regard.”

Her impish grin dried the last of their tears, and he let out a surprised guffaw. “Truly? That is ... marvelous. Imagine a room full of Isoldes having to bow to a commoner! Will I get to see it?”

Raven’s smile froze; Alistair’s fate would depend on Aedan Cousland’s decisions, a worry which consumed an increasing portion of her waking moments. But she couldn’t share that, not yet. Instead, she forced a laugh. “That would spoil the surprise.”

Thankfully, he let it go, moving on to a new troubled notion. “I was about to say, ‘That’ll be a day for him to remember,’ ... and then I thought of the older templars. They don’t. Remember, that is. The—“ He paused, regarding her. “Do you already know about the lyrium? They make templars take it, to enhance their abilities, but eventually it fogs their minds, steals their memories ...”

“I do know,” she nodded. “And I can’t give details, but someday Cullen will stop taking lyrium. It’ll be difficult, but he’ll do it. He’s strong, and he’ll have the support of everyone around him.” Privately, she vowed to find anyone who considered impeding Cullen’s escape from the drug’s clutches, and break their bones one by one until they saw the error of their ways.

The Warden sighed, pulling her closer and resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It helps, knowing he gets a chance to be happy. Even if—if he hates me from now on, at least he’ll be okay.”

“Alistair,” she gently scolded his chest. “He isn’t going to hate you. He never hated you in the first place, not even right after everything. In his last letter, he specifically said to give you his regards. I’m sure your friendship will recover; it’ll just take time.” They snuggled in silence for a long moment, before she glanced up through the corner of her eye, her mouth quirking upward. “Besides, nobody could hate you. You’re way too adorable. It would be like having a vendetta against puppies.”

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “I’m like a puppy, hmm? I’ll take that as a very Fereldan compliment.”

“As well you should.”

Reassured at least somewhat about his friend, Alistair’s eyes slowly filled with his usual mischief. Without further warning, he lifted her by the hips and sat her atop the fence; she squeaked and clutched his shoulders as her feet scrambled for purchase on the lower rail. He grinned up at her. “There, now I can take a turn looking up at you for a change.”

Insecurity prompted her to say, “You shouldn’t do that, you crazy man. I’m too heavy to be tossing around. You’ll end up hurting your back, and the darkspawn will point and laugh.”

Alistair shook his head, chest rumbling with mirth. “I spent half my life training with swords and shields in full armor, my dear. I can lift you a few feet off the ground for a few seconds. And it’s rather nice to use my strength for something other than fighting. Unless you don’t like it?”

The moonlight hid the blush in her cheeks, but not in her voice. “No! No, that’s not ... I mean, yes, I like it. It’s just ... surprising. No one’s picked me up that way since I was a little girl; it’s ... fun, actually. B-but only if it you don’t mind.”

He edged forward between her knees, until their bodies became one shape in the dark, and his mouth was a breath away from hers. “Does it seem like I mind?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well there you have it, then.” His kiss was sweet, and she clung to him as the world spun away into the peaceful night, until they were the only real things in the universe. When they finally parted, smiling against each other’s lips, he brushed his stubbled cheek against hers, and buried his face in her neck.

Immediately, she tensed, and he withdrew, eyeing her curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s fine. I’m all good,” she replied, trying to sound normal and failing.

“Riiiiiight,” he drawled. “And I’m the Queen of Antiva.”

“Charmed, your majesty. Although, I guess I should call you that anyway, what with you being a prince.”

“I am _not_ a prince, and you won’t wiggle out of answering me that easily. Did I do something wrong?”

She snorted. “Noooo, definitely not. Very definitely not.”

“Then what—“ A light flickered to life over Alistair’s head, as he considered her awkward, blushy response. “So I did something ... right, then?”

She looked up and away, coloring further. “I cannot confirm or deny this baseless rumor of yours.”

“I suppose there’s nothing for it but to investigate further.” He repeated his previous motion, but this time, when his mouth reached the side of her neck, he gave an experimental nibble. She inhaled sharply, and the shiver that rolled up her spine pressed her harder against him even as it tipped her head backward. “Mmm,” he hummed against her skin, making her squirm. “Isn’t that interesting?”

And then the smug bastard had the nerve to _chuckle._

 _‘Oh yeah? Two can play at that game,’_ she thought, and turned enough to trace the shell of his ear with her tongue. His laughter broke off in a gasp, and his arms tightened around her body. _‘Who’s the smug one now, Mr. Smarty Pants?’_

“That’s—“ His voice was a strangled croak; he cleared his throat. “Ah, that’s ... quite interesting as well.”

“I thought it might be,” she purred.

“Oh? What gave you that impression?”

 _‘You have sensitive ears because your real mother was an elf, but you don’t know it yet,’_ she thought, but couldn’t reveal. Instead, she replied, “I had a hunch.”

“I shall never argue with your intuition again, my dear.” He said it with the hint of a growl that shot straight through her, and then neither of them spoke again, their mouths being otherwise occupied.

Finally, Raven pulled away, breathlessly resting her forehead upon his shoulder. “We, um ... we should probably go back inside with the others.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, voice muffled as he explored a tempting hollow behind her ear.

“Two reasons. One, I’m pretty sure you don’t want your, ah, first time to be in the mud next to a fence at some random farm.”

He stilled before lifting his head, reluctance plain in his movements. “That is true—regrettably so, right at the moment, but there it is. But what is the second reason?”

“If I don’t get down from this fence soon, the top rail will permanently embed itself in my butt.”

The Warden snickered. “That would be a problem, yes. I’d offer to help massage the area, but I’m afraid it would just take us back to reason number one.”

“Definitely.”

He grasped her hips to ease her down, and despite her earlier restraint, she couldn’t resist sliding along his body as she descended, causing them both to groan. Alistair coughed. “On the other hand, there’s a certain romance to a moonlit evening in a beautiful pastoral setting.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she laughed.

“I?” he questioned in mock disbelief. “I wouldn’t dream of tempting you, dear lady. I am the very model of modesty. The picture of propriety. The vision of virtue. The—“

“Alistair.”

“Yeeesssss?” he blinked innocently.

“If you don’t stop moving that talented mouth of yours, I’ll be forced to kiss you again to shut you up, and then where will we be?”

“In the mud, I expect. You have a point. Shall we go in?” He offered her his elbow, and she slid her arm through with a smile.

“Yes, lets.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am having this issue with prompts where I keep imagining them relative to my main WIP. This would not be a problem except for two things: 1) It makes filling the prompts take longer, and 2) it means I'm not working on the WIP itself, lol. Ah well, at any rate, I hope you enjoyed some of the growing tension between my lovely little ficbabies. :)


End file.
